


A Conference

by 999blackflowers



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Being Awkward Socially, Emmy gets to be a lesbian, M/M, Older Work, awkward dinners, but only kind of, character study kind of, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/999blackflowers/pseuds/999blackflowers
Summary: Hershel has to attend a conference all by himself while Luke has to attend a dinner party with his parents. Their separation isn't a fun time, but they'll make it.
Relationships: Hershel Layton/Luke Triton
Kudos: 6





	A Conference

**Author's Note:**

> A/N from 999blackflowers: Evening all, uploading this fic late tonight as I found it in my folder and thought it worth sharing. Work is tagged Underage as Hershel has explicit sexual fantasies about Luke but no sex occurs
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Hershel sexually fantasizes about Luke

It was times like this Hershel Layton wished he had a tie. He was staring in the mirror of this hotel bathroom, carefully trying to smooth out his look. He didn’t own any button-up shirts, but he had dressed in a red skivvy to match the ribbon on his hat as well as a suit coat, rather than his high collared heavy one. Perhaps he should spend some money on some proper formalwear?

Yes. Conference. To discuss Artifacts of Pompeii, some recent discoveries unearthing all sorts of new artwork and even some idols and a couple more bodies. Forever caked in ash and preserved perfectly. Fascinating. Was it morbid to analyse each dead body and each artifact under a microscope? Those had been people.

Archeology was like that. Randall wouldn’t have any qualms about doing anything like that, Hershel thought to himself jokingly. Ah well.

He lifted his hat to smooth his hair out, replacing it and moving to the door to enter the conference. There was a separate foyer with some fancy canapes and drinks all set up, courtesy of the hotel. The foyer he currently stood in was quiet, yet incredibly fancy. A high ceiling, a persian rug carpet, gilded walls, glass doors leading to the next foyer… There was a person standing by one of the doors, wearing a suit and flicking through a guest list of sorts. 

“You take longer to get ready than any woman I’ve ever known, Professor.” Emmy suddenly had appeared next to him. “Is it gentlemanly to be fashionably late?”

“It depends on the occasion, Emmy.” Layton replied, once again adjusting his hat as he began to approach the man with the guest list.

Emmy had dressed herself in a fine pantsuit, her tangles of hair wild as always but somehow giving her look that bit of Emmy flair. Heels and a purse, as well as her camera hung around her neck. She had a schedule in that purse somewhere. “This isn’t a party, Professor, it’s a formal event.”

“I would not consider myself late unless they began the proceedings and speeches before arriving.” Layton explained, reaching into his jacket pocket as he approached the man at the guest list. Passes for both him and his assistant. The man nodded and opened the door.

“Please try your best to act normal.” Emmy murmured as the glass door was opened, stepping ahead and moving inside. Layton was sure he could make that - he tended to excel in these kinds of situations. 

Layton did feel comfortable in formal situations where most things seemed stiff and overly formal. No one actually making any deep meaningful conversation, all primarily small talk. Everyone dressed very nicely and talking about the weather. He could deal with that. 

He gravitated over to a table with various canapes, plucking what looked like smoked salmon and cream cheese to pop into his mouth. Just one, a gentleman didn’t take more than he needed. And he’d had dinner earlier with Emmy - nothing romantic, just a bolthole woodfired pizza place where Emmy had made fun of him for eating pizza with a knife and fork. It had been a long drive today.

“Excuse me.”

Layton turned his head to see who was talking to him, a server woman with a tray of wine.

“Would you like something to drink this evening, sir?” The server asked with a customer service smile.

“Oh, no thank you.” Layton gave a small nod, tipping his hat to her slightly. “I don’t drink.”

“A responsible man.” The server gave a giggle, a short motion to say thanks and moving on to the next person. Indeed, Hershel Layton did not drink.

Layton decided to quietly regroup with Emmy, his eyes going around the crowded room until he saw her leaning up against a wall, a glass of wine clutched between two fingers as she talked to a woman. So she was flirting. Layton could understand that.

“So, haha.” Emmy giggled into her glass as she took a sip. “What kind of things do you do? Other than archeology.”

The woman she was talking to was wearing a slinky dress, blond hair and her own empty wine glass. Funnily enough, a ring on her thumb. “Well, winter’s coming soon, I’ve got a ski trip planned just after this. Do you enjoy skiing, miss Altava?”

“Never tried skiing, but.” Emmy took a slow sip from her glass. “I have a pilot’s license and my own private plane.”

“What’re you doing being some guy’s assistant, then?” The woman raised an eyebrow.

“I could never fly as my main income. I just wanna go up in my plane and fly, no instructions, no nothing.” Emmy smirked. “There’s two seats in it.”

“Miss Altava…”

“Wanna sneak off somewhere?”

Layton was suddenly standing behind her, smiling faintly. Emmy looked back and exhaled.

“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to inform you they have some nice canapes over there you might like.” Layton tipped his hat to the woman Emmy was clearly flirting with.

“Have you considered trying to get your dick wet this evening with someone normal?” Emmy gave him a glare. “Plenty of nice men and women here.”

“I’m taken.”

“You’re a disgrace to the rest of us.” Emmy murmured. 

The woman Emmy was talking to moved forward, taking her free hand. Emmy’s lips immediately pursed in surprise and she looked back, the other woman giving her a nod.

“If you’ll excuse me, professor.”

“I understand.”

\--

Luke sat at his family dinner table, his eyes focused on the flickering flames of the fireplace in the Triton dining room. His mum and dad sat there, of course, eager to catch up with their 11 year old son who had been living in London to attend that nice private school.

“So, how’s school? Did your recount of what happened in Monte d’Or go over well?” Clark asked, cutting into a roast potato.

Luke had noticed his family had gotten his favourite meal cooked up - roast lamb with a mint sauce, roast potatoes and some carrots and broccoli. He did appreciate it, the professor often didn’t have time to cook and even then he didn’t usually have the money to shell out for lamb. It was good.

“It went over great!” Luke assured, spearing a carrot on his fork. “The teacher really loved the Pumpkin Park descriptions.”

“Did you use your words well?” Brenda spoke up, pushing her purple hair behind her ears. “Is that thesaurus the professor bought you working?”

“I used the word ‘iridescent’ and got a good grade.” Luke puffed his chest out proudly.  _ The professah had used that word once.  _

“By the way, once you’re done with this, I made some poundcake.” Brenda spoke up, giggling. “Look at me - using my own kitchen.”

“Has the professor been visiting with Randall much?” Clark asked, noting that Luke did perk up even more once he heard about the poundcake. “I first met him when he was in mourning, seeing him alive must be such a shock. A good shock.”

“Actually.” Luke took a moment to think. “He hasn’t been seeing him much…”

Even as his parents looked a bit surprised, Luke quietly knew why. Luke had been brought along to a cafe where the professor was going to see Randall for a sort of catch-up. But things were clearly tense. Randall had seemingly confessed to a couple of murders to his old friend and he had found out about the nature of his relationship to the child he towed around. So they were both stuck in a tense friendship knowing they could turn each other into the cops. A perpetual standoff.

Depressing.

“They might just not have sparked again.” Brenda pointed out. “It’s been a long time since high school, you know. I don't get along with all my high school friends…”

“Probably.” Luke shrugged, cutting into the lamb again. He did miss his mum and dad on occasion, but he'd much rather be in London… Welp. He was ready to go home. Back to London. This wasn’t home anymore.

\--

11:32pm, Hershel laying sleeplessly on the bed. He was wearing his boxers and a singlet, thinking about where Emmy would be now. Emmy had really been hitting it off with that woman and they’d stolen away somewhere to presumably have sex. 

He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he wasn’t alone tonight. The event was fine and the speeches were interesting, even though the conference would only start properly tomorrow. But now he had a problem - getting to sleep.

By this time of night he was usually in bed if he wasn’t working his arse off marking or planning a new lecture. Luke would usually crawl to bed at around 8pm, and by around 10pm he’d crawl in with him, hugging his bear, and pull him close to his chest. Whether or not Luke was actually asleep or not at the time was a kind of touch and go. But now he was alone.

Driving up to the conference today, he and Emmy had made a stop in Misthallery to let Luke visit his parents for the weekend. Luke was not invited to the conference and he probably wasn’t equipped for a formal event discussing archeology for 2 days. 

Emmy was of course in a better state of mind too. 

_ … would it be too bad to let his thoughts roam? _

Wouldn’t it be cute to put Luke in some stockings? He’d be adorable with his chubby thighs. Oh, and gloves too. Cute little frilly girl’s panties and-

Hershel stopped himself, getting up off the bed to head into the bathroom. 

_ And cute white gloves and a collar _

He yanked the tap open, splashing his face with cold water. Enough. His suit jacket was hanging on the doorknob, and he reached inside it to pull out his journal. He used to throw out the pages of his journal by tossing them down the toilet, but ever since Emmy had become his assistant she insisted on making random checks to make sure he wasn’t planning anything.

Hershel opened to the most recent page and began to write the thought. White gloves, white thigh highs, wh

_ Professah~ _

The thoughts were deciding to not leave yet, even as he wrote them out on the page.

Hershel went back to the bed to try and tear his thoughts away from the unfolding fantasy in his brain. He kept his eyes off the other awful thought he had on the page, considering removing his eyes or his hands or whatever it took to free him from his  _ fucking attractions.  _ Full lobotomy, perhaps. 

Perhaps it would be nicer to focus on those thoughts for now. At the same time, it’s not like Luke was around. Would he be harmed by the thoughts currently playing in his brain of the poor kid planted on his cock with his eyelashes fluttered shut?

Perhaps it was absolutely best to focus on thoughts of  _ full lobotomy  _ for now.

He shut the journal, having wrote the thoughts. Now of course they wouldn’t leave. His thoughts were somewhere between  _ hire a brain surgeon to skin the frontal cortex off my brain  _ and  _ god Luke is beautiful _

Hershel turned on the CRT TV from a remote on the bedside table, flicking the lights off and pushing himself under the covers. Whatever was on TV would distract him. Hopefully. God he wished.

His thoughts would subside eventually. Even if he had to wank to get rid of them, he comforted himself with the idea that Luke would not be harmed. Nothing would hurt him more than hurting the poor boy in any way.  _ Unforgivable. _

\--

Luke was curled up under the covers, his eyes shut, but he couldn’t get to sleep.

This bed was too small. Soft, yes, but too small! He opened his eyes again and sighed, looking out at his room. That dresser had been gutted, so had his wardrobe. He had left a couple of his toys here for the off occasion the professah had to leave him here for the weekend for whatever reason, but his whole room looked kind of bare.

Luke snuggled his bear tight, pressing his back to the cold wall and wishing he had arms wrapped around him. At least he knew what his room actually smelled like now in comparison to the professah’s apartment. This room smelled kind of… sweet. The professah’s apartment kind of smelled like the man himself. Vanilla and sandalwood.

...Still couldn’t sleep.

Luke sat up and reached for a little string above his bed, pulling it and ringing a bell somewhere in the house. “Beeeth! I need a hot chocolate!”

Immediately he heard footsteps. He folded his arms and quietly enjoyed the fact he could just  _ do this _ , sure, the professah would probably do the same thing if he looked up into his eyes at 1am and pleaded with him, but he certainly wouldn’t be pleased.

That would be fun, though. The professah basically did whatever he wanted. 

He hugged his bear to his chest and wondered if he was being thought of right now. He was certainly thinking about the professah! He had heard if you couldn’t sleep at night, it’s because someone’s thinking of you. 

Luke rocked back and forth until the maid opened the door slowly, a mug in her hands. She was obviously looking exhausted. His eyes glimmered with joy.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be going to bed now.” Beth rubbed her eyes. And left.

Luke sipped his hot chocolate, victoriously.


End file.
